


Crutchie- A JackCrutchie Cinderella Story

by lettersfromtherefuge



Category: Blood Drips on Newsies Square (1991), Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:26:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14857016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromtherefuge/pseuds/lettersfromtherefuge
Summary: Charlie Morris was eight years old when his mother died from an unknown illness. With his father traveling, the boy barely left his room save when his father was home.When he was fourteen, his father died from a terrible fever. Suddenly, he was an orphan. While reading his father's will, he found that the estate on which he lived was left for his aunt until he came of age.  Unfortunately, Charlie never knew his aunt, she died before he could meet her. So, the estate was left to his aunt's husband, Wiesel, and their two sons, Oscar and Morris. A few days after his family moves in, an unfortunate accident leaves him unable to use his right leg, but even despite this he tries to live by his mother's words- "Have courage and be kind."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Charlie became Crutchie.  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> i swear the chapters will be better than the summaries i just suck at summarizing

Charlie Morris was a lively young boy. With his sandy blonde hair, bright and sparkling green eyes, and freckles his mother liked to call constellations, he was the heart of the country estate on which he lived. His happy giggles echoed through the vast halls as he ran, the cook or one of the many staff members chasing after him in a fun game of tag. In the mornings he would wake up at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise over the fields of corn and grain, his young heart ready to seize the day. He would then start off the day in the kitchens, assisting the cook with the breakfast that would serve the household. He would then sit with his parents and the staff (which he prefered to call his friends) around the large oak table and eat, and after that he helped the gardener with the garden. Together they would plant, weed, and harvest plants, the gardener laughing at the little boy’s antics. Soon Charlie made his rounds around the estate, helping out a little bit everywhere. Although he dabbled in everything, he always ended up in his mother’s sitting room, playing with his dolls and toy trains on the rug as she sewed and sang him songs. The sun streaming through the window created perfect natural lighting for his games, and he would often pose in front of the window to watch his shadow match his pose. He would sing along to his favorite songs, his sweet, young voice blending with his mother’s wise, older one.  
“Lavender blue, dilly dilly, lavender green,  
If I were king, dilly dilly, I’d need a queen;  
Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so?  
I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so.  
If your dilly dilly, heart  
Feels in a dilly, dilly way  
And if you’ll answer ‘yes,’  
In a pretty church on a dilly, dilly day  
You’d be wed in a dilly, dilly dress of  
Lavender blue, dilly dilly, lavender green  
If I were king, dilly dilly, I’d need a queen.”  
As Charlie and his mother sang, his father would stand near the door, sipping tea and smiling down lovingly at his perfect, small family. The one inconvenience in young Charlie’s life was his father’s occupation. As a businessman, Nicholas Morris frequently had to separate from his family to travel. He would be absent for weeks, sometimes even months at a time. Charlie absolutely despised it, but if it was what needed to be done to keep his home and his friends and his mother happy, he would gladly kiss his father goodbye for a few weeks and wave as the carriage holding him rolled down the dirt path and out of sight.  
It was such occasion as this on Charlie’s eighth birthday. The boy has just hugged his father tightly, the carriage only a few yards down their dirt driveway, when Charlie’s mother gripped her son’s shoulder.  
“Charlie,” she gasped, turning her face away from him as she coughed violently into the crook of her elbow. When she looked away, Charlie saw blood splattered on the fabric of his mother’s lavender dress. With wide eyes, he told the stable girl to run and get the carriage, which quickly returned. Nicholas Morris escorted his wife to their bed, tucking his pale and sickly wife in neatly. Charlie curled up against her, the dark cloud of despair looming over the family. After laying beside his wife with his son between them, Nicholas allowed himself to close his eyes, and soon they had all fallen asleep on the bed. Nobody knew exactly how long they were asleep, but when Alexandra Morris woke her husband and son with the coughs racking her small frame, it was dark outside, the moon casting an eerie glow over the room.  
“Lavender blue, dilly dilly, lavender green,  
If I were king, dilly dilly, I’d need a queen;” Her voice was hoarse and quiet, every word a struggle for her.  
“Mama?” Charlie whispered, taking her hand in his small one.  
“Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so?  
I told me so, dilly dilly, I told me so…” Alexandra’s words began to sound fainter, her gravely voice fading. Her green eyes, much like her son’s, fixated upon the swirling designs on the ceiling. Charlie’s usually bright eyes brimmed with tears as his lip quivered; he knew exactly what was coming.  
“If your dilly dilly heart,” she gasped.  
“Feels in a dilly dilly way,  
And if you’ll answer ‘yes’,  
In a pretty church on a dilly, dilly day…” She trailed off, her grip loosening around her son’s hand.  
“Mama? Mama!” Charlie yelled, his voice cracking as tears slipping down his cheeks. “Mama, no! Come back… come back to me...” he sobbed, his father enveloping him in a hug as he stared at his beloved wife’s body, looking so small and frail against the bedsheets.  
Charlie was never quite the same after his mother’s funeral. It was held in a field of lavender, her gravestone engraved with the lyrics to her favorite song.  
Here lies: Alexandra Rosaline Morris  
Loved Wife, Daughter, Friend, but above all, Mother to her Charlie.  
“Lavender blue, lavender green,  
If I were king, I’d need a queen.  
Ever since that day, Charlie no longer woke up early. Instead the newly eight year old slept in, waking up only as breakfast was being served. He closed himself in his room, reading a mountain of books his father retrieved for him on his travels all around the world. Charlie was much happier when his father was home, laughing more and waking up earlier. It was a relief to everyone when Nicholas returned home, because they got their old Charlie back. But, his father always had to leave, and Charlie would retreat back into his room per usual. This only got worse, when, at the age of fourteen, Charlie’s bedroom door was knocked on.  
“Charlie…” the maid said, holding out a book for him. He recognized it as the one he had asked his father for when he left days earlier.  
“Papa’s back already?” Charlie asked, hesitantly taking the book. He could tell something was wrong, seeing as his father always came to greet him with his son’s desired book (and maybe a few extras) first thing when he returned.  
“No... he got sick along the way. He insisted they turn the carriage around and come back to you.” A beat of silence. “He didn’t make it back. The last thing he said was your name.” Charlie’s grip on the book tightened, his eyes widening. Suddenly, the rain dropping against the window pane, previously comforting, rhythmic, and cozy, became overwhelmingly loud. He swallowed the large lump in his throat, nodding faintly as he closed the door. Hugging the book to his chest, Charlie stumbled backwards and curled into the chair his dad read books to him in as a child.  
Charlie didn’t come out of his room for days. The staff watched over him, best they could, leaving food on his desk, which they would retrieve the next meal, completely untouched. Eventually, two months after he was orphaned, Charlie had to read his father’s will. His eyes widened in shock as he read that the estate has been left to his aunt, who had passed away when he was young. He had never even met his father’s younger sister, who was supposedly kind and loving. To make up for her death, his aunt’s husband, and Charlie’s uncle, a man by the name of Frederick Wiesel, would move into the estate with his sons, Oscar and Morris Wiesel. Oscar, Morris, and Charlie were expected to get along, seeing as Morris was Charlie’s age and Oscar a year older. They were to arrive in two days.  
The estate boomed with preparations. Everything was dusted, cleaned out, and shone until it sparkled. The only thing that left mostly untouched, besides for dusting, was Charlie’s parents’ bedroom which was at his own request. He wanted it to be exactly like they left it. Charlie assisted in the preparations, the bags under his eyes evident as was the weight he had lost from his obvious depresion.  
The day his uncle and cousins were scheduled to arrive, Charlie helped the cook prepare a hearty meal for the first time since before his mother’s passing. Charlie enjoyed helping out, forgetting how much he loved baking and cooking. At last, the long awaited carriage pulled up. Charlie went out to greet them, immediately intimidated by his uncle’s judgemental eyes and beer belly. His cousins weren’t any more friendly-looking, with narrow eyes and deep-set features. As they exited the carriage, Morris purposely tripped Oscar, causing him to stumble as he caught himself. Charlie watched as Oscar turned and punched his brother in the shoulder, never knowing such violence. Dinner was even more awkward, as Charlie’s first impression of his new family and lost appetite didn’t mix well together.  
“Charlie, I think it would be best if you moved up to the attic.” Wiesel informed his nephew after starting his pasta.  
“My bedroom…” Charlie started, only to be cut off.  
“...is perfectly sized for my sons to share.” Wiesel finished Charlie’s sentence as his sons shared triumphant smirks. “Isn't that right, Charlie?” Wiesel looked at Charlie, as if daring him to disagree. Still eyeing the boy, he shoveled a mouthful of pasta into his mouth.  
“Yes.” Charlie agreed softly. “I’ll have my things up there by tomorrow night.” He silently turned back to his meal as Wiesel sighed contently.  
By the next evening, all of Charlie’s personal belongings were up in the attic. The attic was a dusty tower in the estate, but Charlie had to admit that if, and when, he got it all sorted out, it could become quite cozy despite the tedious stairs. So all that day, Charlie spent organizing the attic. The majority of things already up there were sent down to the trash, like his baby toys and clothes. However, he did find some valuable things, including one of his father’s fancy suits from his time in the army before Charlie was born. He figured maybe it would be valuable to him later, and hung it up near the back of his wardrobe. Among other things, he found a framed picture of himself, his mother, and his father all smiling in front of the estate when Charlie was young, a love letter his father wrote his mother, the collar of Charlie’s first dog. Other than the picture which he hung on the wall, he kept the other special items under a loose floorboard. After a few days, the attic was as habitable as an attic could be. He had pushed a bed near the back wall, a nightstand next to it. Near the circular window that looked out over the front of the estate was an old but cushy armchair, perfect for reading. A wardrobe was adjacent his bed, containing most of his clothes. He had placed a few shelves on the walls, holding little trinkets and toys. He flopped onto his bed, sighing with relief. Finally, his cleaning was over. Just as theteen year old thought he was done for the day, heavy footsteps pounded up the rickety staircase leading to his bedroom.  
“Charlie!” An aggressive voice yelled as Oscar reached the top of the staircase, clearly out of breath.  
“Can I help you?” Charlie groaned, sitting up.  
“Dad wants you to clean the kitchen.”  
“You guys have hands, do it yourself.” Charlie answered, covering his face with his hands.  
“Dad wants you to do it.” Oscar crossed his arms.  
“I’ll do it in half an hour. I just finished cleaning, I want a nap.”  
“Get up, Dad said said clean the kitchen!” Oscar snarled, crossing the room and grabbing Charlie by his shirt collar and pulling him up.  
“Get offa me,” Charlie pushed Oscar off, straightening his shirt. “Fine, I’ll go, I’ll go,” He said, eyeing Oscar as he started towards the stairs. He was just starting down the spiral staircase when he felt Oscar come up from behind him. Before Charlie could react, he felt Oscar’s hands on the square of his back.  
“Osc-” Before he could finish speaking, Oscar pushed him, hard. With a scream, he tumbled down the staircase, palms out to catch himself. Instead of catching himself, he just felt his skin break open at the contact with the wooden stairs as he plummeted down. His head pounded as his vision blurred. He couldn’t hear himself screaming, though from the aching in his throat he knew he was. Suddenly he felt himself stop moving, but his world still swirled. Jolts of pain shot up from his arms and left leg, but his right leg screamed at him constantly. The pain slowly inched around his leg, sprouting from the knee but slowly overtaking his calf, shin, and foot. It crawled upwards, covering his thigh until he couldn’t take the pain anymore. With another sharp scream, dark spots filled his vision and the pain grew before suddenly stopping. Just like that, he had faded into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.


	2. 'Crutchie'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> charlie wakes up in the hospital with a bad leg and a new nickname!!

When Charlie woke up with a dull headache, he was in a sterile white room that smelled of strong cleaning supplies, the most prominent smell being bleach. The smell took several moments to adjust to, in which Charlie scrunched up his nose repeatedly. It took a few minutes and blinking several times for the room to stop spinning, and while he worked on steadying himself Charlie tried to remember what happened, and, more importantly, where he was. A low, steady beeping caught his attention, and he craned his neck-despite the headache- far enough to see a monitor next to him. The rectangular screen was mostly black with a few different colored graphs which he couldn’t read or understand. Looking down, he noticed he was hooked up to the heart monitor through something in his arm. Panic started to set in as the realization dawned on him: he was in a hospital. His memories were still fuzzy, meaning he didn’t know what exactly had happened to land him in the hospital. As his thoughts raced through his mind, contemplating what could have possibly happened, the steady beeping of the machine started to quicken. Tears blurred the corners of Charlie’s vision as he started getting choked up, and the door opened, revealing a few doctors and nurses.  
“He’s stable; just panicking.” An unknown man confirmed, and a different doctor sat beside him on the crisp white bed sheets, tenderly taking his hand in hers.  
“Look at me, look at me.” She repeated gently, and Charlie started to focus on the name tag that read ‘Dr. Larkin’. He read her name tag repeatedly, steadying his breaths. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just took a little fall okay?” Charlie nodded, his head slowly wrapping around what had happened. But as his anxiety and panic resided, a new problem arose: his leg was sending shoots of pain through his body. As he noticed the pain, his fists clenched the bed sheets and he grit his teeth.  
“Up the pain killer dosage,” Dr. Larkin said, standing up and retrieving a clipboard. “Alright, can you tell me your name young man?” She readied her pen to write his answers.  
“Charlie Morris.” Charlie answered, stuttering slightly.  
“And the date?”  
“May twenty-third.”  
“Correct. Your age?”  
“Sixteen.”  
“Family?”  
“Uncle and cousins.”  
“Do you remember what happened so you had to come here?” She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.  
“Uh, no.” He admitted. “I mean, I fell down the stairs I think?”  
“Your cousin Oscar tells me that you were roughhousing and you took the tumble down the stairs leading to the attic.” At the prompt, Charlie’s memories unfolded, releasing the events to him.  
“What? No, he pushed me!” Charlie said, raising his eyebrows as his eyes widened. “Because I wasn’t fast enough to go clean the kitchen.” Dr. Larkin nodded slowly before scribbling something down.  
“Alright, Charlie. Oscar gave me a weird vibe anyway so I’ll just cross off his statement…” She scribbled on the paper. “There. So, about your injuries.” Setting the clipboard down, she sat on a stool with wheels and wheeled herself over next to Charlie’s bed.  
“Yeah? How bad is it?” Charlie asked nervously, his stomach dropping.  
“You have a minor concussion, so you’ll have to take it easy for a few days. Your arm is sprained, which isn’t too bad, just be careful with that…” she trailed off, eyes glancing towards his leg.  
“Is that all?” Charlie asked, hoping it was so and he could return to his estate soon.  
“No, not exactly. Your right leg. When you fell, you landed on it oddly. We put a cast on it, but it was so broken it will take a few months at least to heal, and even then there is no reassurance that it will be completely back to how it used to be. There is a definite possibility that you may need crutches for the rest of your life.” Dr. Larkin brushed her dark curls away from her face, adjusting the pink headband resting on her head. Charlie’s eyes widened, the reality sinking in.  
“Wait, what?” He asked, resisting the urge to cry.  
“Now, we don’t know yet. Until it is healed, there’s no way to be sure. The bones in your leg may heal perfectly normally and fine, there is just a smaller percentage of that happening because of the angle at which you fell on it,” The doctor hurriedly explained. “For all I know, you could be back on your feet within six months.”  
“Oh… okay.” Charlie answered softly, pushing himself onto his elbows to get a good look at his leg. True to Dr. Larkin’s word, it was wrapped in a cast, propped up on a pillow.  
“When can I go home?” He asked, looking at the doctor and then the door.  
“We’re keeping you overnight, but you’re free to go tomorrow evening.” Dr. Larkin confirmed, smiling softly. “If you need me, just press this button,” she instructed, showing him a bulky remote that controlled the angle of his bed and had a red button labeled ‘DR.’ at the bottom. He nodded, placing the remote beside him. Dr. Larkin headed for the door with a toss of her hair.  
“Oh, here, some books. It may get a tad boring.” She smiled, handing him six books, two of which Charlie had already read.  
“Thank you, Doctor Larkin.” Charlie said politely, opening the first book, one titled To Kill a Mockingbird.  
“Oh, just call me Medda, dear.” She said with a wave of her hand. “Everything is so formal these days.” She grinned.  
“Thank you, Miss Medda.” Charlie said, a small smile tugging at his lips.  
“Close enough.” The doctor laughed, picking up her clipboard and leaving the room with a motherly laugh.  
Miss Medda stopped in to check on Charlie every hour or so, to make sure the boy was okay. Even though he told her he was sixteen (and she looked up his birth certificate to be sure), he still had a small frame and looked younger. Heavy bags under his eyes suggested stress and sleepless nights, and his current condition with the bruises and splinters from the wooden stairs made everything ten times worse. When she stepped into his room and saw he was asleep, she would tuck in his covers and gently fluff his pillows, slipping a bookmark into the book splayed across his chest and place it under the thick remote that never seemed to leave his side. Dimming the lights, she would leave him to get his rest. On the occasion that he was awake, she would make small talk about the book he was reading, asking his favorite character or favorite moment so far, seeing as she’s gave him a stack of her personal favorites. Charlie looked forward to his Medda visits, greatly anticipating the older woman’s comforting company. With her dark skin and warm eyes, she could make anyone feel at ease almost immediately. Her personality, humor mixed in with motherly concern, made her an excellent doctor, and Charlie was very grateful he had the honor of having her as his.  
On the next day, Charlie was scheduled to leave, Medda stopped into his room to say goodbye. When she pushed the wooden door open, she smiled at the sight of him up on his feet. He was supported by two wooden crutches, but he was standing nonetheless. He had a grin plastered on his face as he tested out walking.  
“How you feelin’?” Medda asked with a smile as she placed her clipboard down.  
“Better,” Charlie smiled, taking a few steps. He obviously needed more practice with the two crutches, but Miss Medda had no doubt he would get the hang of it soon.  
“Now, Charlie, you’ll have to come in for monthly visits.” Medda informed her patient, scribbling down some notes. “But you’ll be able to take the cast off after five months.” She smiled.  
“Okay,” Charlie smiled. Medda has opened her mouth to speak again when the door opened, Wiesel stepping into the room.  
“We’re ready to go home now.” He said gruffly, eyeing his stepson.  
“Just a few more minutes, Mr. Weasel.” Miss. Medda said, checking Charlie’s vitals.  
“It’s Wiesel.” He corrected, rolling his eyes.  
“Yes, okay dear.” Medda said distractedly, crossing the room to Charlie. She had him walk across the room a few times, adjusting the crutches every so often to help Charlie get as comfy as possible.  
“You’re all set.” Medda informed Charlie with a smile. “Remember, take it easy and I’ll see you back here in a month.” She waved as Charlie left the room, Wiesel close behind him.  
“Thought you were bein’ cool, huh?” Wiesel accused as they walked down the hall.  
“What?” Charlie focused on swinging his crutches so he wouldn’t trip.  
“Pullin’ that, fallin’ down the stairs.”  
“Oscar pushed me!” Charlie was quick to get defensive.  
“My son would do no such thing, don’t you dare accuse him of that shit.” Wiesel’s hand clamped on the back of Charlie’s neck, causing him to instantly tense up. The sixteen year old didn’t answer, staring at the ground. “That’s what I thought.” Wiesel removed his hand as he stepped into the waiting room, Oscar and Morris slouched against the wall.  
“Can we get outta this dump now?” Morris said snarkily.  
“Let’s go.” Wiesel answered, and his sons shoved their way in front of their newly disabled stepbrother to get out of the hospital.  
The carriage ride home was nothing short of miserable, with Charlie staring out the window while his intolerable ‘brothers’ threw names at him and poked his cast.  
“How heavy do you think it is, Oscar?” Morris would ask, his cue for Oscar to hit the cast. As Charlie pulled his leg away with much effort, all while blinking back tears. Oscar and Morris would have obnoxiously loud conversations about Charlie’s leg and the cast, and their personal favorite, how Charlie was faking it all. As expected, Weisel did nothing but watch, clearly amused. After much too long of a carriage ride, they pulled up outside the estate. Charlie had gotten used to let Oscar, Morris, and Wiesel get out before him, and watched as they walked inside, leaving him to struggle out of the carriage and towards the house in the pouring rain. His crutches slipped in the mood and he almost went flying if he had not jabbed his cast into the mud. He yelled out in pain as he clenched his jaw, the rain soaking his clothes and only making it harder. When Charlie finally made it to the doorstep, he quickly ducked into the doorway, his clothes soaked.  
“Don’t get your mess all over the floor, you crip.” Oscar called from the couch, where he was watching Morris play piano. Morris hit the wrong key and frowned, trying again.  
“Yeah.” Charlie nodded, leaning against the back of the door. “I’ll just go to my room.” He said, before remembering the exhausting trek up the stairs. Sucking in a breath, he started the climb up to the second floor. Once reaching the landing, he went to the door at the end of the hallway. At first, Oscar thought it was a closet and was amazed when Charlie opened it and saw the winding staircase. Charlie pulled open the door, eyes widening when he remembered just how many stairs there were. He started climbing the steps, clenching his teeth as he concentrated.  
Finally, he made it to the top. He decided he’d just sleep in the guest bedroom on the first floor, knowing he would definitely not be able to scale the climb every day. He packed a bag that included clothes, blankets, pillows, and a stuffed rabbit his mother gave him. He stared down the stairs after he finished packing, sighing loudly as he began down the stairs. Going down, as he soon realized, was even harder than going up. Going down, he had to hold himself in such a way so he didn’t tumble head over heels down the stairs… again. However, he soon made it down and dumped his belongings on the bed.  
“Mr. Wiesel?” He called, poking his head out the door to see his stepfather sitting in the sitting room.  
“What?” Wiesel snapped, glaring at his stepson.  
“Can’t I just live in the guest bedroom?” Crutchie asked, wondering why he didn’t ask the question before.  
“Because, what if we have guests?” Wiesel responded, as if the answer was obvious, and suddenly Crutchie remembered why he didn’t ask.  
“Oh. Right.” He sighed, retreating back into the room.


	3. The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crutchie and jack meet in the woods and fall in love!!

Two years later, it was clearly evident that Crutchie’s leg- the one that was twisted in the fall down the stairs would not be getting better any time soon. The leg was still bent at an awkward angle, and a crutch- sometimes two crutches, on particularly bad days- were necessary for even the smallest of steps or movements. One of his favorite activities now included riding his horse, Butterscotch, since two good legs weren’t needed for the sport. All he had to do was simply gently press his good leg into Butterscotch’s soft side and the horse understood him immediately. After he would finished all his chores-which, quite frankly, was most of the household and took up the majority of the day- Crutchie would go out to the stables in the backyard and ride Butterscotch in the paths that carved through the woods behind the estate. For hours he would roam, pretending not to hear Oscar calling for him to come redo chores that he would cruelly mess up to blame his stepbrother.  
It was a day such as this, the early June sun blazing down against the bright blue cloudless sky, as Crutchie rode through the woods. Per usual, he had left his crutch at the stable where Butterscotch was kept to avoid having to awkwardly hold it atop the horse. He was riding freely in an open field, feeling like he did when he could still run. With each gentle breeze, the yellow grass would sway gently, the sweet smell of nature drifting up to Crutchie’s nose. As Crutchie was admiring the day and his surroundings, Butterscotch suddenly caught sight of an elk near the perimeter of the field and was immediately frightened of the animal, booking it into the forest. Despite Crutchie’s cries for her to slow down and pulls on the reins, the mare headed straight into the woods. Crutchie gripped her reigns harder, pulling back on them more harshly, but to no avail. Then, much to Crutchie’s alarm, something- or someone, Crutchie was too panicked to understand what was happening immediately- sped out of the trees to his right and reached over, grabbing onto Butterscotch’s reigns. The stranger, also on a horse, was able to shock Butterscotch enough so she’d slow, allowing Crutchie to regain control. Out of breath, Crutchie swept his blonde locks out of his eyes before looking up.  
“Are you alright?” The stranger asked, and Crutchie’s green eyes made contact with charming dark brown ones. Butterflies exploded in his stomach, but he couldn’t explain exactly why.  
“Yes, I’m alright. Thank you,” Crutchie nodded graciously.  
“Of course.” The stranger responded. Unknown to Crutchie, but butterflies familiar to Crutchie’s had erupted in his stomach as well. “What do they call you?”  
“Nevermind what they call me.” Crutchie shook his head, looking down.  
“You shouldn’t be so deep in the forest alone.” The dark eyed stranger said with a smile.  
“I’m not alone, I’m with you.” Crutchie responded with a small laugh. “What do they call you?”  
“You don’t know who I am?” The stranger asked, sounding surprised. After a confused look from Crutchie, he shook his head. “They call me Jack. Well, my father does. When he’s in a good mood.” Jack chuckled.  
“And where do you live, Jack?” Crutchie asked with a smile, testing out the name on his tongue. He liked it.  
“At the palace… my father is teaching me his trade.” Jack nodded.  
“You’re an apprentice?” Crutchie asked, somewhat excitedly.  
“Of a sort,” Jack answered after a moment, a grin painted on his features.  
“That’s very fine, do they treat you well?” Crutchie cocked his head.  
“Better than I deserve, most likely.” Jack answered honestly. “And you?”  
“They treat me as well as they’re able.” He answered with a small shrug. A moment of silence pursued between them.  
“I’m sorry…” Jack said, in a softer tone.  
“It’s not your doing.” Crutchie dismissed, the smile returning to his face.  
“Not yours either, I’ll bet.” Jack responded. Crutchie smiled, shaking his head and shrugging once more.  
“It’s not so bad.” He assured Jack. “Others have it worse, I’m sure. We must simply have courage and be kind.” Crutchie recalled the words his mother would repeat to him as a child.  
“Yes, you’re right.” Jack grinned, feeling himself fall for this boy, unable to stop himself. “I believe the same thing.” Their small yet pleasant chat was interrupted by trumpets in the distance. Crutchie’s eyebrows knitted together, confused. A panicked look set in Jack’s face as he turned to look towards the direction the trumpets were sounding from.  
“Prin-” A man entered the clearing they were in on a horse like Jack’s but was immediately hushed.  
“Jack. Jack is my name. I am Jack. That is me.” Jack said loud enough for the man to hear, casting a nervous glance at Crutchie. “Um, this is the Captain.” Jack said to Crutchie, motioning to the man. “I must get going now, but I hope to see you soon.” He told Crutchie earnestly, nodding before trotting over to Captain and leaving Crutchie in the forest with one last glance. Smiling to himself, Crutchie started the relaxing trot back to his home estate.  
To give himself more time to think about the day’s events-and more particularly, Jack- he rode around the estate to the front, adding a half hour to his time. Before he even approached the long, winding dirt path that served as a type of driveway, Oscar was upon him, drilling him with questions.  
“Where were you, crip?” He spat, crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes. “Dad says you did not clean the foyer well enough. You obviously forgot to dust.”  
“That’s not possible, I’ve dusted the foyer twice today already.” Crutchie responded, recalling the times Weisel accused Crutchie of not dusting earlier that very same day.  
“Guess you’ll do it a third time,” Oscar’s eyes fluttered down to Crutchie’s twisted leg. “Crutchie.” He scoffed, using the name as an insult as rolling his eyes and turned on his heel. Crutchie nodded, repeating ‘Have courage and be kind. Have courage and be kind. Have courage and be kind.’ in his head, taking time to take (very) deep breaths to calm himself down and let his anger and negative feelings subside. After making sure Butterscotch was safe in her stable, Crutchie grabbed his crutch and placed it under his arm, adjusting it a few times before it was as comfortable as it could get, Taking the worn dirt path back to the house that led directly into the small but homely back yard, which housed a small garden on one side and chicken coop adjacent to the garden. Pushing the kitchen door open and shooing the chickens away so they’d stay outside, he closed the door behind him. A loud hiss drew Crutchie’s attention to the counter in the corner, and Crutchie sighed irritably upon seeing Lucifer, Wiesel's evil cat.  
“Off the counter, cat.” Crutchie grabbed a pan hanging from the rack above the kitchen island and waved it at the black cat, the cat hissing at Crutchie once more before jumping off and lazily stalking into the living room. Crutchie rolled his eyes, grabbing the duster from under the countertop to go dust the foyer again.  
That night, after Crutchie had dusted the foyer once more and made dinner for his ‘family’, he rested in his attic bedroom. Now that he had had the crutch for a while and was able to get accustomed to it, Crutchie had adjusted so he could scale the steps to the attic somewhat easily. As he laid on his bed, looking up at the slanted ceiling, his thoughts drifted back to the woods, and, more particularly, Jack. The handsome stranger with the dark eyes who worked at the palace. The palace! From Crutchie’s bedroom window you could just see the tips of the towering piers, sometimes more on a clear day. He shook his head, shaking himself out of his thoughts as he grabbed a nearby book from a stack next to his bed. Crutchie tried to forget Jack, for the chances of seeing him again for extremely slim. Hardly anybody came out to the woods anyways, it was odd that they had seen each other in the first place, given how large the woods were. As the sun set outside his window, casting a strange orange filter into his room, Crutchie read his books, the same ones his father had gotten for him on his trips. He hadn’t gotten a new book since before his father died, and quite frankly, the boy was too afraid to ask Weisel for a new one. He was just about to flip the page when a movement from the corner of his eye made him look up. He saw a small brown mouse skitter into a hole in the wall, and Crutchie sighed, eyeing the mouse trap on a dusty shelf. Shaking his head, Crutchie figured the mouse would just hang out and eat crumbs, doing no real harm. Soon after spotting the mouse, Crutchie’s eyelids were heavy with sleep and he set a bookmark in the book, drawing the curtains before laying down to sleep, images of the woods and Jack in his head.  
A few miles away, completely unbeknownst to Crutchie, Jack was in a similar position.  
He was posing for a portrait that would be sent to foreign princes and princesses, all with the intent of finding Jack somebody to reign with. It was no secret in the palace that the king’s health was failing. He was pale and sickly, unable to even get out of bed. His nineteen year old son was preparing to take on the crown, despite insisting that he was too young to take on such a task. As Jack posed, his mind wandered back to the woods and that boy, He couldn’t believe that he had left the boy in the woods before getting his name, at least. There were so many possibilities of who he could be, Jack was disheartened, determined to find him again.  
“Sir, may I take a break? I’ll resume the position when I return.” Jack asked the painter, who nods, hoping for a break herself. As the painter goes off the enjoy the castle’s gourmet food, Jack makes his way to his father’s bedside.  
“Father,” Jack said, peeking his head through the door.  
“Jack?” The old man’s head turned to the door, and Jack took it as an invitation to enter.  
“Father, I’ve been thinking,” He started. “What if instead of me marrying a foreign royalty, I marry a common person?” Jack suggests.  
“Jack, that’s ridiculous.” His father scoffs, shaking his head. “It completely goes against Royal protocol, and not to mention, tradition. Your mother was a foreign princess, you must keep on the tradition.”  
“No, Father, listen. It would enhance morale, and form an ardent bond between royals and common people. Show to them that we do care.” Jack insisted, choosing large words to make himself sounds smarter.  
“Jack-” The King raised a hand.  
“No, Dad, listen. We’d host a ball, okay? And invite common people, everyone is invited. Everyone could wear a mask, so I’d choose a husband or wife depending on personality, not rank or looks. And foreign royalty could be there too.” Jack looked at the King, eyes full of hope.  
“Fine. But the ball must be in two days. I want to overlook it.” The king compromised, wanting to be around for the ball, the knowledge that he wouldn’t make it to the end of the week looming over him like a dark, heavy storm cloud.  
“Deal.” Jack nodded, excitedly standing and returning to the portrait room. He posed again, hardly able to contain his excitement.  
After a few (boring) hours, after Jack’s limbs were stiff and his eyelids drooped, the painter finally finished.  
“You are free to go, Your Majesty.” The painter bowed and after nodding in return, Jack turned on his heel and ran to his room where he proceeded to write the official announcement.  
An official announcement from His Majesty Prince Jack, son of King Richard III:  
A royal ball will be held at the palace ballroom tomorrow, the third of May. Any and all residents of the kingdom are invited to this celebration of Prince Jack, who searches for a spouse to assist in ruling once he assumes the throne from his father. Wear your best evening attire to the palace at eight in the afternoon. Snacks and refreshments will be provided.

Jack read over his work, nodding with satisfaction and sent it with a maid to be given to an official who would read the announcement and tack it to the town square of villages all over the kingdom. He earnestly hoped that the boy from the woods would see it and attend, in turn giving Jack a chance to get to know the mysterious stranger in the woods. As Jack settled in to sleep, he fantasized about his idyllic ball: The boy from the woods would recognize him, and they would dance all night before Jack introduced him to the king. The king would immediately love the boy and give them permission to marry, and then, well, Jack would get his happily ever after.


	4. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> people gotta get ready for the ball!!

The morning that the princes’ ball would be announced, Crutchie woke up to the sunlight streaming between the curtains, the ribbon of gold illuminating his blanket. Yawning, he pushed himself into a sitting position and stretched, shoving the blanket off of himself and planting his good foot on the floor. As he reached for his crutch, he blinked to allow his eyes to adjust to the light room. As he was trying to peacefully shake the sleep off when a slamming door and arguing voices drifted up to his room.  
“DAD!” Morris yelled. “Oscar took my cologne!”  
“Osc, give the cologne back.” Wiesel’s voice responded, sounding bored. “The hell is crip? I want my breakfast.” At these words Crutchie groaned, Oscar’s heavy footsteps pounding up the spiraling staircase. His door was kicked open, revealing a fuming Oscar.  
“Can I help you?” Crutchie asked, standing and placing the crutch under his arm.  
“Dad’s hungry.”  
“There’s eggs in the ice box.”  
“Go make us breakfast, dumbass.” Oscar thwacked the side of Crutchie’s head, turning on his heel with a huff. Crutchie rubbed his head, rolling his eyes as he followed Oscar down the scared, making sure that he was Oscar behind him to avoid permanently injuring his good leg too. Once they reached the ground floor, Oscar slipped into the living room and sat on the couch, Lucifer soon joining him. Rolling his eyes, Crutchie walked into the kitchen and grabbed the eggs and a pan, starting to make eggs for his ungrateful family.  
He had just finished the eggs for Wiesel, Oscar, and Morris, and was starting on his own when Morris burst through the front door after his usual walk through the village.  
“Dad! Oscar! The prince is holding a ball!” He cried, shaking a slip of paper in the air.  
“What do you mean?” Wiesel asked, standing up and crossing the room, snatching the paper from Morris.  
“‘A Royal ball will be held at the palace ballroom tomorrow, the third of May.’” Wiesel read, his eyes alight. “Morris and Oscar, you will go to that ball.”  
“Duh.” Oscar scoffed, rolling his eyes.  
“You are to win the prince’s heart, and then we can move to the palace and live a lavish life.” Wiesel finished his plan with a glare at Oscar for interrupting him. “And with two children, I have twice the chances!” He said with a selfish smile, leaving the paper on the table in the foyer and disappearing into his bedroom down the hall, presumably to prepare for the ball. Crutchie left the egg on the stove, not caring if he burnt it, and rushed to the foyer to pick up the paper, reading it himself. Looking up excitedly, he caught Morris’ judgemental gaze.  
“What, you think you’re gonna go?” Oscar scoffed, folding his arms, raising an eyebrow.  
“I mean…” Crutchie trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid. Of course Weisel wouldn’t let him go.  
“Think the prince’ll love a crip?” Morris laughed, joining Oscar’s side.  
“I don’t wanna even meet the prince,” Crutchie said honestly. He just wanted to see Jack again.  
“Then why do you wanna go?” Morris asked, stepping closer.  
“I have a friend that is an apprentice at the palace.” Crutchie said, saying the honest truth- to his knowledge.  
“Psh, yeah right.” Oscar rolled his eyes, shaking his head.  
“Childhood friend. His parents sent him off to the palace to become an apprentice after my mom died.” Charlie made up a quick yet simple backstory, hoping the details would be enough to convince them of his tale.  
“Yeah, whatever. You’re still staying here. Dad will never let you go.” Oscar said, Morris nodding his support and agreement.  
“Maybe,” Crutchie mumbled, setting the flyer back down and turning on the heel of his good leg. For some inexplicable reason to Crutchie, he felt deeply saddened by the fact that he won’t get the chance to talk to Jack again. Returning to the kitchen, he saw that he had, in fact, burned the egg, and the egg happened to be the last egg in the kitchen. Groaning, he tossed the gg into the waste bin and grabbed a basket.  
“I’m going out to get some more eggs.” Crutchie called, as if they even cared what he did. Stepping into the backyard, he was immediately surrounding by squawking chickens. The annoying chatter of the birds reminded Crutchie that he still needed to feed them, and with another exasperated groan, he stepped back into the kitchen. In the closet closest to the door, a bag of chicken feed sat at the bottom, the remaining contents only enough for a few more days. He made a mental note to go to the local market in the village a little ways away and buy some more. In the meantime, he just grabbed the bag and pushed the door open, once again crowded by the annoying birds.  
“Calm down, calm down,” he muttered, tossing the seed out to be sure there’d be enough for all the chickens. While the chickens were preoccupied, fighting each other for the seed, Crutchie ducked into the chicken coop and grabbed a few eggs before returning to the kitchen and placing the basket on the counter before placing the chicken seed back in the closet. He looked at the eggs, carefully placing them in the ice box, keeping one out to make himself another one, but this time he hoped he wouldn’t get distracted and burn it.  
As Crutchie had just gotten news of the ball, Jack was anxiously pacing in his lavish bedroom, thoughts racing. He had so far gotten a positive reaction from everyone, with nobles applauding his decision to open the celebration to all and commoners expressing their great excitement. Quite obviously, Jack was glad that his new proclamation had been reacted to with such a welcoming manner, but the prince couldn’t seem to take his mind off the boy in the woods, the boy who Jack didn’t even know his name. He recalled their conversation, particularly the bit about where his family or guardians or whoever he stayed with, treating him as well as they’re able. Which, Jack interpreted, as not very good. Although, he told himself, the boy seemed to be in good shape, besides a bruise on his jaw. Or was it a shadow, cast by one of the plentiful trees? They were in a clearing in the forest, after all. Jack groaned in frustration, racking at his brain. Think Jack, think! He told himself, trying to figure out if the boy could be in any danger. He decided that that could not be so, relying on the notion that his memories were blurry due to the several days that separates him from the encounter in the woods. He was still pacing and deep in his thoughts when his bedroom door opened, revealing the Captain.  
“Your Majesty, your father wishes to see you. He would like to oversee your suit fitting for the ball.” The Captain informed Jack, slipping out the door to attend to some other business that requires urgent attention. Jack tipped his head back and groaned, reluctantly walking down the marble floor to his father’s bedroom, only a few doors down.  
“Dad, are we gonna do the fitting in here?” He asked, noticing that his father was probably too weak and sickly to get out of bed. The King nodded faintly and Jack stepped inside. Not even a moment later, the kingdom’s top fashion designers and stylists walked in, with a rack of different suits all a varying shade of blue. One of the stylists, some guy with deep brown eyes, who went by the name Jo-Jo, hustled Jack towards a circular stool that had been set up in front of numerous mirrors. Jack sighed at his reflection, with messy hair and disheveled clothes.  
“Here, try this.” Spot said, handing Jack a suit in a dark shade of blue. Jack nodded, slipping it on and looking at the mirror, shaking his head.  
“That color sucks on you.” A voice said, and Jack turned to see Race, one of Jack’s best friends lounging in the corner on a mini sofa.  
“Wow, thank you Racer.” Jack laughed, but he had to agree.  
“Try that one.” Race pointed to a blue that was a bit lighter than the others. Jack nodded as Jo-Jo retrieved it, handing it to Jack. He changed into that one, smiling in the mirror.  
“I mean, it’s not terrible.” Race commented, but one look at his smiling face and you could tell that the suit looked good on Jack. Jack nodded with a smile and turned to Jo-Jo.  
“I like this one,” He said, moving his arms and legs to be sure he would be able to move around.  
“Of course, let me just take some measurements.” Jo-Jo nodded, muttering a bit in Spanish as he worked. Jack held perfectly still as Jojo made measurement, shooting faces at Race as Race shot them right back.  
“Alright, your Majesty, that’s all for today. The suit will be tailored and ready for tomorrow night by midday tomorrow.” Jack nodded and slipped out of the suit and back into his usual clothes, thanking Jo-jo.  
“The suit will be credited to Josephino Jorgelino de la Guerra, does that sound correct?” the Captain asked Jo-Jo, who nodded his head in response.  
“Yes, that’s perfect.” Jo-Jo nodded, taking his rack of clothes and leaving. The King turned to Jack, motioning for Jack to come closer. Nodding, Jack stepped off the podium like stool and sat near his father.  
“Now, Jack, I know you invited all these common people, but maybe it’d be best to marry a Royal.” He bagan. “Not only will an extravagant wedding boost moral, but it can strengthen ties with other countries.” The king tried once more to convince Jack.  
“No, Dad. I’m really excited to meet all the commoners. It’ll be a great experience.” Jack pushed, hoping his dad wouldn’t bale out on the deal now.  
“I suppose.” The king waved his hand, dismissing Jack and Race. On the way out, after the door closed, Race nudged Jack.  
“So,” Race started, wiggling his eyebrows.  
“Yes…?” Jack said, laughing softly, wandering what Race was about to ask.  
“Why do you wanna invite all the commoners in for the palace? Seen a pretty girl?” Race asked, nudging Jack’s shoulder again with another wiggle of the eyebrows.  
“No,” Jack shook his head with a laugh. Technically, he wasn’t lying. “Why do you ask?”  
“Because the Jack I know loves tradition.” Race reasoned. “This is very uncharacteristic.” Race said, poking Jack.  
“It is not!” Jack brushed Race’s hand away playfully. “And I do not love tradition! It’s just… a lot more comfortable than change.” Jack tried to prove himself but only gave Race a reason to go on.  
“Come on, Jack! I’m your best friend, you are required by the Best Friend Contract to tell me everything.” Race smirked.  
“Don’t bring that up.” Jack laughed, face-palming. The Best Friend Contract, or BFC, was something the two came up with when they were younger. It was a set of basic rules, along the lines of:  
Tell your best friend EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
No stealing your best friends toys or candy or crown!!!!!!!  
No telling on your best friend!!!!!  
No replacing your best friend!!!!!!  
Invite your best friend to ALL your parties!!!  
It was stupid, but in cases like these where the other wanted to know something, they would bring up rule number one- ‘Tell your best friend EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’.  
“Okay, okay, okay. Fine. You win.” Jack raised his hands in surrender.  
“Best Friend Contract always wins!” Race laughed, fist pumping. “Now, spill the tea.”  
“Okay, so, when I was out riding with everyone a few days ago, I wanted to go somewhere new, and so Captain suggested these woods that technically belonged to someone which meant we were trespassing but I’m the prince so Captain said it was okay.” Jack went silent for a moment. “I mean… that sounds worse than it was. But it’s not like there was anything back there, just some trails and a bunch of trees. Actually, I found a nice pond with an island in a middle. We should really go there someday, it looked really pretty.”  
“You’re stalling. Get to the point, Kelly.” Race called Jack out, crossing his arms with a huff.  
“Alright, alright, sorry. So, I was riding along and taking in the nature and stuff, when I heard horses hooves nearby, but it wasn’t any of the guys I was with. Then I heard someone yelling, and obviously I turned to go chase after them to help.”  
“A true Prince Charming.” Race nodded with a grin, earning a smack from Jack.  
“Shut up. So, it turns out the person’s horse had gotten spooked and ran off, and the person couldn’t stop it. And so I leaned over and grabbed the reins of the horse and stopped her, and the kid riding the horse ended up being really cute.” Jack was already blushing.  
“Oooo,” Race grinned. “What’s their name?”  
“I- I don’t know…” Jack rubbed the back of his neck.  
“Jack, you idiot.” Race rolled his eyes. “How do you not know the kid’s name?”  
“I mean, I asked his name but he just told me ‘nevermind what they call me’.” Jack explained himself.  
“Okay, so he’s a commoner? And you wanna meet him again?” Race recapped.  
“Y-yeah. I think he might be the one.”  
“The one?!” Race gaped. “Slow down there, buddy. You don’t even know the guy’s name.  
“Leave me alone.” Jack whined, shaking his head. Suddenly a weight from his head lifted, and his hands flew to his brown hair, realizing his crown was missing. “Racer, give it back!”  
“Gonna have to catch me first.” Race smirked, walking down the hall away from Jack backwards.  
“This is a violation of the Best Friend Contract rule number two!” Jack yelled ,taking off after Race.


	5. Preparation (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie meets his fairy godparents!!

Jack woke up unusually early that morning, even for him. Well, if he was completely honest with himself, he never fell asleep in the first place. He was far too excited- and a tad anxious, he must admit- to sleep thoroughly. The castle was bustling in preparations, every hall being sanitized, bleached, and polished to perfection. He grinned as he strolled through the palace on his way to the gardens, a sketchbook and pencil in hand. As the prince pushed open the grand French doors made of glass in the ballroom, he squinted against the bright sun, contrasting against the clear, cloudless blue sky. He walked throughout the gardens, looking at the bushes of rose bushes that lined the path, occasionally reaching out to brush one with his fingertips. At long last, he finally reached his favorite place through out the entire palace- his own secret garden. The stucco wall stretched the length of the garden, protecting the delicate flowers and plants from outsiders. However, as Jack learned from his mother when he was young, if you followed the wall long enough, you’d come to a wooden door covered by ivy. The door was locked, but a metal key layed nestled under a clump of ivy hanging on the wall. He smiled as his fingers brushed the cold metal and pulled it out, unlocking the door before pushing it open and placing the key back into his ivy holder. Inside Jack’s garden was a gravel pathway lined with hedges that led to a circular grass patch, a large willow tree sprouting from the middle. Hanging from one of the sturdy branches was a wooden swing that his family built for him when he was young, which happened to be his favorite place to think. Closing the door behind him, Jack made his way towards the swing, relieved when he sat on it. For him, the swing was the only place where he could be just Jack- not ‘His Royal Majesty’ or ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Prince Jack- just Jack. He happily took out his drawing pad, flipping the nearest available page, which was near the back of the booklet. Jack made a mental note to ask his dad for a new one when he returned to the palace. For a (incredibly) long while, Jack stared at the page, not sure what to draw. The notebook was filled with drawings of his mom, dad, and staff around the palace, along with far-off places and mystical creatures. He eventually settled on drawing the palace and began to draw a rough outline of the large castle and its towering spires. He didn’t know how long he had been drawing for when he looked at his watch for the time. The watch on his wrist read ‘12:27’. Jack’s eyes widened as he realized that lunch was being served in three minutes, while the walk from the garden to the castle lasted fifteen. He flipped the journal pages closed and leapt off the swing, making a mad dash for the door. He hastily locked it and recovered it with ivy as he resumed his sprint along the stone paths, passing employees working on the gardens, watering flowers, planting seeds, the works. Jack struggled to breath as he neared the glass French doors, throwing them open as he ran through the ballroom and up the main set of stairs, to the dining room. Outside the dining room, the prince took a minute to fix his hair and disheveled clothing using the floor length mirror at the end of the hall. After deeming himself as close to presentable as he was gonna get, he opened the doors. All heads swiveled to see him, and Jack tried hiding his sketchbook as he awkwardly walked to his seat at the head of the table next to his father, who was currently sat in a wheelchair with a blanket over his frail form. The meal before the prince was one of Jack’s favorites, steak with a side of salad. He slipped into the manners he had been raised with, and despite his late and embarrassing entrance, everything that meal went smoothly. That is, it all went smoothly until one of the King’s advisors looked at Jack and told him that inviting commoners was stupid.  
“Prince Jack, I mean no offence when I say that inviting the kingdom’s commoners into the ball is not a good idea, at all.” He told Jack, his thin nose pointed in the air.  
“Advisor Joseph, I do not see what you mean.” Jack replied after a moment to conceal his anger, cutting into his steak.   
“Your Majesty, what I mean is, this could potentially be very dangerous, for you and the King.” At these words Jack turned to his father, who just looked to Jack and nodded reassuringly.   
“My father and I spent countless hours reviewing the safety procedures for tonight, I am quite sure that everything will go as planned. I would not worry, Advisor Joseph, everything is in the trustworthy hands of the palace guards.” Jack did not even look up this time, in fear that he might lose it. In his eyes, it wasn’t fair that the commoners were excluded from palace festivities simply for being commonors. They couldn’t control that, nor could he control the fact that he was Royal. That was just fate.   
“Evan plans that sound sturdy can still be faulty.” The advisor raised his fork, stabbing the air with it as to prove his point. Prince Jack just stared at him, obviously confused, before shaking his head and finishing his food.   
“I am quite positive that the Prince and I will handle the event accordingly. I am positive that Jack will find a suitable man or woman to marry and take up the Royal throne beside him some day when I am gone.” The King spoke up, his voice old and gravely. Jack looked to his father in surprise, seeing as the King is a man of (very) few words. After getting over his shock, which was only a few moments at most, Jack nodded in agreement.   
“Exactly.” He gave Advisor Joseph a pointed look before leaning back for a maid to pick up his empty dishes. Saying a quick ‘thank you’, he looked at Advisor Joseph as if daring him to argue.  
Advisor Joseph did not.   
Soon, much sooner than the prince would have prefered ,it was six o’clock. The ball started at seven o’clock. One hour until the ball. One hour until he could- hopefully- see that boy from the woods again. Jack paced anxiously along the marble tiles in his bedroom as he awaited JoJo to arrive with his tailored suit. When the wooden door to his bedroom opened, Jack turned to it with a smile, excited to try on the suit. His face fell when he saw Race, gnawing on a chunk of bread.  
“Oh. Just you.” Jack sighed, flopping onto his already made bed.  
“Just me? You seem to have forgotten who your best friend is,” Race smirked, sitting at Jack’s desk.  
“I’m waiting for Jojo.” Jack told Race, staring at the high ceilings.  
“The guy that did your suit fitting yesterday?” Race asked, taking another bite of the break.  
“No, the guy who does my nails.” Jack responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Yes the guy who did the suit fitting.”  
“Bit touchy today?” A bit of Race’s Italian accent slipped into his voice.  
“Yeah, I’m just nervous for the ball.” Jack nodded, sitting up with his head in his hands. “What if I don’t meet him- I mean, the right person? Dad wants me married before h… y’know. And everyone knows that won’t take that long.” Jack’s voice grew softer as he spoke.   
“You’ll meet the right person. Hundreds of people are coming, there’s gotta be someone out there for you.” Race comforted Jack, crossing the room to sit next to him and handing him a piece of bread, which Jack took and ate, still looking miserable.   
“The thing is, I don’t want it to be just anyone. I want it to be him.” Jack said, referring to the mysterious boy from the woods.   
“I still can’t believe you never caught the guy’s name. Any distinguishing features at least?” Race asked, leaning back against the bed board.  
“I mean…” Jack racked his brain to remember. “Oh, his eyes. He had these stunning green eyes. But they weren’t just green, there were little gold streaks.” Jack smiled softly, remembering how the light filtering in through the trees’ branches had caught the fold streaks, really making them stand out. “And his nose had all these freckles on it, all over his cheeks. He looked kinda small, like you, but shorter.” Jack turned to Race pointing out his thin frame and lanky limbs.   
“Hey!” Race was protesting just as a few short knocks came from the door.  
“Come in!” Jack called, eyeing Race the entire time, daring him to bring up the mystery boy in front of Jojo. The door opened and Jojo came in, the suit pressed and ready on a hanger.  
“See how this fits, Your Royal Highness.” Jojo said, handing him the suit.   
“Thank you.” Jack nodded taking the suit and changing into it. “It fits perfectly!” Jack smiled, turning around in front of his full length mirror.  
“Perfecto!” Jojo smiled. “The ball starts in... “ he checked his watch. “Twenty minutes. IN that time span try not to ruin the suit.” Jojo teased the boss, leaving the room.  
“Damn Kelly, even Jojo doesn’t trust you.” Race laughed, earning a thwack to the head from Jack.   
“Shut it, Higgins.” Jack laughed, throwing a pillow at his best friend.  
Meanwhile, Crutchie was in the middle of doing twenty different things at once. Dinner was on the stove, Weisel wanted the living room cleaned, and Oscar and Morris needed help with getting ready.   
“How the hell do you tie this?!” Crutchie heard Morris yell, then a fist pounding against the wall.  
“Come here!” Crutchie rolled his eyes as he yelled up the stairs, his words followed by heavy footsteps stomping down the carpeted staircase. Morris stepped in front of Crutchie, huffing, obviously annoyed to have to enlist his help. Crutchie steadied his balance on his good foot and focused on Morris’ tie, his tongue sticking out of his lips a little as he concentrated on tying it.   
“There.” Crutchie sighed, turning back to the kitchen to take the spaghetti off the stove.  
“The crip can tie a tie and you can’t!” Oscar teased Morris, punching his shoulder. “You must be dumber than I thought.”   
“Shut it, Oscar, unless you want my fist in your face.” Morris growled, adjusting the tie in the foyer mirror. Crutchie heard all this but pretended not to hear. AFter the spaghetti was off the stove, he hastily cleaned up the living room, completing his chores, and as Weisel told him the night before, if he completed all his chores, he could go. With a smile, Crutchie ran (as well as he was able, with a crutch) up to his room and pulled out his father's formal army suit. It wasn’t specifically an army suit, but the family called it that, seeing as his father only wore it when he went to ceremonial banquets, and, unfortunately more often, funerals of those he previously served with. He slipped the suit on, glad to find that it fit him surprisingly well. After adjusting his hair, Crutchie made his way downstairs to see that his ‘family’ had eaten without him. Usually, he’d be upset, but the anxiety and excitement within him made him realize that he couldn’t eat even if he wanted to. He reached the bottom landing just as Oscar scraped his chair back, taking the napkin off his lap and walking to the front door where a carriage waited outside.   
“What’s that suit for?” Oscar smirked, scanning Crutchie.   
“The ball,” Crutchie answered. “Your dad said if I finished all my chores I could go.”   
“Oh, is that so?” Morris asked, walking to stand next to Oscar. Reaching out a hand, he pushed Crutches mother’s vase, which rested on a table with a bouquet of flowers in it, to the ground. Crutchie gasped as the elegantly painted glass shattered upon contact, tears filling his eyes. He remembered back to when he was young, he went into town the day they bought that and even took a special trip to the flower shop to buy the first flowers that would ever be in the vase. Crutchie made sure those same flowers were always in the vase, even to that day.  
“Guess you still have something to clean up.” Weisel shrugged, stepping over the pool of water. “And besides, you couldn’t go to the ball in that.” He looked at the suit as if it were the most hideous thing he’d ever seen.   
“Wh-what’s wrong with it?” Crutchie stammered, looking down.   
“It only has one arm,” Morris pointed out, Crutchie looking up in confusion.  
“What do you-” He was cut off by the sound of ripping fabric. HIs head snapped towards his left arm, the sleeve now laying in the puddle.   
“Oh my god…” Crutchie mumbled, eyes wide as he gaped at the sleeve.  
“And this,” Oscar grabbed the buttons on his white button-up shirt and yanked his arm, the button popping off the shirt, making him laugh. Oscar laughed with him, reaching his hand up to pop one off himself.   
“Stop!” Crutchie yelled, twisting his body to stop them. He took off towards the back door, bursting through, passing the chickens without a second thought until he made it far past the backyard, over a small bridge over a gurgling brook, and to a small gravesite with a bench beside it. He laid next to the bench, wiping back tears.   
“I tried, Mom, really.” He mumbled through tears as he looked at his parent’s graves, the full moon casting an eerie silver glow across the tombstones, clearly illuminating ‘BELOVED MOTHER’ and ‘CARING FATHER’, only making Crutchie cry harder. That is, until he was stunned into silence at a pop behind him. Turning around, he saw a girl with auburn curls and a gorgeous shimmery blue gown, a silver crown atop her perfect hair. A tall boy with dark hair and lanky limbs stood beside her awkwardly, two wands in his hand.  
“I’m done carrying your wand, Katherine.” The boy sighed, exasperated.  
“Then don’t, Davey.” The girl said bubbly, taking the thin pastel pink wand.   
“Who are you…?” Crutchie asked, eyes wide with awe and fear.   
“We are your fairy godparents.” The boy introduced. “I am Davey and this is-” He was cut off.  
“I’m Katherine, and we,” she motioned between her and Davey, “are not dating. I happen to be very happy with my girlfriend, Sarah.” The fairy informed. “Anyway, we heard you wanted to go to some ball tonight to meet some guy you met once but think you might be in love with?” Katherine looked at Crutchie expectantly.   
“Yeah…?” Crutchie said, obviously still confused.   
“Well, stand up and stop moping.” Davey said, picking up a lizard from the ground. WIth a flick of his wand, it was a man.  
“Oh my god!” Crutchie leapt back, the lizard-man snapping his tongue into the air, confused when he realized tongue was much smaller than he expected.   
“There’s the coachman,” Davey said, turning to Katherine, who nodded approvingly.   
“We need horses.” She decided, swishing her shimmery blue dress as she started looking for something to use as horses. That’s when Crutchie caught sight of a few mice scampering around his mom’s grave.   
“There are some mice…” He pointed a slightly shaking finger and Katherine smiled.   
“They will do perfectly.” With a flick of her wand the mice were levitating in air, squeaking in confusion. She mumbled something inaudible and the mice transformed, growing larger until they were mighty fine white mares.   
“Now, what else do we need?” Davey asked, tugging at the collar of his suit, the color matching Katherine’s dress.   
“A carriage, duh. And you’re supposed to be the smart one,” Katherine scoffed in friendly banter, and it was clear to Crutchie that these two were old and close friends.   
“Right, right.” Davey nodded. “Maybe a rubber ball?” He asked Katherine, who shook her head.  
“No, remember that one student in our class, I think his name was Finch, was it? He tried a rubber ball and the carriage was bouncing all over the place.” Katherine recalled, and Davey nodded.   
“Ah, yes. That was not fun.” Katherine shook her head at Davey’s words.  
“Do you have a garden?” Davey directed these words at Crutchie, who nodded and stood, sniffling as he took off towards the garden behind the house. He heard Katherine gasp at his leg, but ignored it. He was used to worse words, after all.   
“Uh, here. But all we have are pumpkins, I harvested this morning.” Crutchie looked at the orange pumpkins.  
“Oh, they will do just fine.” Katherine nodded, and flicked her wand to make the pumpkin float. She then led it over to the front of the house, Crutchie and Davey trailing behind her.   
“Now, stand back.” She winked at the two as the pumpling gently joined the ground again. Crutchie nodded, stepping back, almost colliding with lizard-man and mice-horse.   
“This is so humiliating.” Katherene sighed before taking a breath. “Salaca doo la menthicka boo la bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.” She said, her words growing stronger as she spoke.   
“She hasn’t learned the silent spell for this yet.” Davey whispered to Crutchie with a smile.   
“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!” Katherine finished, and the pumpkin slowly started to expand, to Crutchie’s surprise. Soon it had turned itself the same glittering blue of Davey’s suit and Katherine’s dress, with fine silver wheels and everything a carriage may have. The lizard-man took up the spot of a coachman, and the horses got into formation to be attached to the carriage. Katherine looked at Crutchie expectantly.  
“Well, go on then. Get in!” She started shooting Crutchie towards the carriage.   
“W-wait,” Crutchie stuttered, and Davey’s eyes widened.  
“Gee, Kath, it’s almost like you forgot to give him a new suit.” Davey said, leaning against the carriage with a smirk.   
“Oh, shut up.” Katherine sighed, they eyed Crutchie’s ripped clothing. “Okay, okay. Stand very still,” She told him, drawing out the words ‘very’.  
“Kath, maybe I should-”  
“No, Dave. I got this.” Katherine cut off Davey, only making Crutchie more worried.   
“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!” Katherine flicked her wand and Crutchie looked down at his feet where a swirling blue light was making its way up his body. He didn’t move, and soon the light, which was actually very cold, made its way to Crutchie’s neck. Then it was above his head in a matter of seconds, before vanishing completely, the only remnants of it ever existing was a few glitter particles in the air. Crutchie was now dressed in a blue, almost white, suit, more expensive than anything he could ever hope to purchase.   
“It’s amazing,” Crutchie smiled, looking at himself.  
“Alright, my turn.” Davey said, stepping in front of Katherine. He mouthed some words and the same swirling light took up Crutchie’s crutch, turning it into a silver crutch that complimented his suit.  
“Thank you so so much!” Crutchie gushed, looking at it.   
“That’s what fairy godparents are for,” Davey smield, crossing his arms.   
“So, go, have fun! But remember, back before midnight or everything will disappear!” Katherine called as Crutchie boarded the carriage.  
“Back before midnight.” Crutchie confirmed, a bright smiling spreading over his facial features.


	6. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie goes to the ball... then has to leave the ball because it's midnight!

Crutchie rods through the peaceful countryside for many minutes before the mice-turned-horses of his pumpkin-turned-carriage trotted through the castle gates towards the castle, the grand structure already alight in celebration. Crutchie nervously stepped out of the carriage with the help of the lizard-turn-coachman’s hand, and was only able to stare at the steps of the palace and watch as the carriage left with a flick of the reigns from lizard-man. And just like that, Crutchie was alone. He n made his way up the steps, taking longer because of his crutch, and though he would never admit it, his nerves. His stomach erupted into a knot of anxiety, twisting and churning, calculating every little thing that could go wrong, but also every possibility of things going right. When he finally made it to the grand set of doors, he entered, walking through the entry hall and following a royal blue carpet to the ballroom. His heart sank to see even more stairs leading to the dance floor below, but his disappointment was quickly overcome when he saw all the tables of food, and he only grew more excited when he saw people dancing. Jack had to be among them.  
Prince Jack was, in fact, among them. He was dancing with a foreign princess his father insisted he meet, and Jack was not enjoying himself nearly as much as the princess was. She danced quickly, not at all graceful, often stepping on Jack’s foot and bumping into other people. Jack was getting over another jab to the foot with her sharp heel when she gasped, stopping mid-dance to turn towards the entrance of the ballroom. A unified gasp rippled through the large crowd as they laid eyes upon what the princess saw, and Jack looked over in confusion. However, once he set his eyes upon the stranger at the top of the stairs, his face melted with awe as well. At the top of the grand staircase stood a boy around Jack’s age with sandy brown hair swept over his forehead, and a stunning blue suit. He was leaning on a silver crutch, his cheeks blushing a deep- but cute, Jack admitted, red-under the attention. Jack watched, unable to tear his eyes away even if he wanted to, as the stranger proceeded to make his way down the staircase, somehow graceful despite the crutch making him go slowly. Jack made his way through the crowd to meet him at the bottom, holding out an outstretched, gloved hand. Jack had a creeping suspicion that he knew this stranger, but everything was confirmed the minute he saw his eyes. Two brilliant green eyes with streaks of gold met his brown ones, assuring Jack.   
“It’s you,” Jack smiled, just loud enough for the two to here.  
“Jack?” Crutchie breathed, taking his hand. Jack nodded, leading Crutchie to the dancefloor. A crowd formed around them, all eyes on them. A maid came to them and took the crutch, standing not too far away should Crutchie need it. Jack’s hands slid around Crutchie waist, Crutchie’s arms around the prince’s shoulders.  
“They’re all staring at you,” Crutchie said softly, painfully aware of all the eyes on them.  
“Oh believe me, they’re all staring at you.” Jack responded lightly as the music started up again, the crowd once again forming into couples as Jack and Crutchie swayed to the music. Crutchie leaned on Jack so he wouldn’t fall over, and Jack looked at him.  
“You’re the boy from the woods.” Jack stated simply. “You never told me your name.”  
“Crutchie. My name’s Crutchie.” Crutchie said with a small laugh.  
“Crutchie?” The prince repeated, somewhat surprised. “That’s what your family calls you?”   
“They’re not my family.” Crutchie shook his head. “But that’s what they call me.”  
“And you’re okay with that?” Jack raised an eyebrow.  
“You get used to it.” Crutchie promised as Jack waved his hand and the maid gave the crutch back to Crutchie.  
“Follow me.” Jack said with a mischievous but equally charming smile, leading Crutchie out to the glass French doors and into the garden, bathed in silver moonlight. Crutchie followed as Jack took his hand, stepping into the gardens. A few couples walked through the stone paths, but Jack payed them no mind as the started to walk along the wall.   
“You failed to mention you’re the prince.” Crutchie said lightly, following Jack.  
“It wasn’t important.” Jack turned back to him with a smile. They walked through comfortable silence, hands entwined, until Jack arrived at the ivy covered door, reaching into the ivy for the key. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the garden and closed the door again. Crutchie looked around the hidden garden, smiling.   
“Here, sit down.” Jack led him to the swing and Crutchie leaned his crutch against the tree before sitting down as Jack pushed him gently.   
“I was hoping you would come,” Jack admitted, being sure not to push him too hard.  
“Really?” Crutchie asked, craning his neck slightly to hear Jack better.  
“Yeah.” Jack nodded.   
“I only came to see you,” Crutchie said in return. “I didn’t think you were the prince or anything.”  
“You had no way of knowing.” Jack laughed. “Other than every news source in the kingdom.” He teased lightly, poking Crutchie’s shoulder.  
“I don’t get out much.” Crutchie laughed, defending himself. Jack opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the sharp toll of the clocktower, signaling 12:00. Midnight. Crutchie’s head snapped up, eyes widening,.   
“I- I gotta go!” Crutchie stuttered, grabbing his crutch as he stood and ran out the door. “I had an amazing time, Jack!” He called over his shoulder, and for once he was thankful that his step-brothers chased him all around their house and yard, finding that when needed he could be actually very fast and agile considering his limp and crutch. Jack was too stunned to move at first. He thought the conversation was going fine-great, even. He felt his heart sink a little as the door closed behind Crutchie before gaining his senses and running after him. Crutchie weaved through the crowd, considerably harder due to the crutch, but people tended to give Crutchie his own little bubble of space after they saw the crutch. Soon he was at the steps of the palace, the carriage seemingly waiting for him. He started down, stumbling slightly and losing his one of his shoes. He knew he wouldn’t have time to grab it without his clothes melting into his father’s ragged suit, so he continued on without looking back. Once he reached the carriage he climbed in, urging the lizard-man to go, fast as possible. As the carriage took off down the driveway of the palace, Crutchie turned to see Jack at the top of the steps, his figure illuminated by the lights behind him. The carriage was out of sight from the palace when a pop reached Crutchie’s ear. With a sigh, he watched as the lizard-man turned back into a lizard. The carriage rolled to a stop and Crutchie stepped out, his splendid suit going back to his father’s ripped uniform. He sighed sadly, stepping out onto the dirt path and taking off his remaining shoe so he could walk more evenly. When he was about halfway home, it started to rain. Crutchie couldn’t bring himself to care, even as the rain soaked through his clothes, chilling him to the bone and making his clothes heavy. He stepped onto the path that led to the driveway, smiling brightly as he walked, pushing the front wooden door open and stepping into the foyer. He caught sight of his father’s sleeve laying in a small pool of water and sighed, walking up to his bedroom to dry himself off and change before tucking the glass shoe under his loose floorboard. He then went back downstairs to clean up the mess before Weisel got home. The mess was cleaned and Crutchie was sitting by the fireplace in the kitchen when the front door burst open, revealing his ‘family’.  
“Cup of tea, now.” Weisel spat, slamming the door. Crutchie nodded, filling the kettle with water and carefully holding it over the stove.   
“How was the ball?” Crutchie asked, trying to keep his happiness to a minimum.  
“Terrible.” Oscar grumbled, rolling his eyes as he slouched in one of the kitchen chairs, Morris beside him.  
“What happened? Prince not like you?” Crutchie asked, raising an eyebrow.  
“We don’t know, we never even got to even speak to the guy.” Morris scoffed, obviously miserable. “He spent all the night with some crip like you.” Crutchie froze at the words, hoping they didn’t suspect anything.   
“Oh…” He mumbled.   
“Yeah, barely paid any attention to my boys.” Wiesel said gruffly. “Where’s my tea?” He demanded, staring down Crutchie.   
“It’ll be ready soon, don’t worry.” Crutchie mumbled as he added the tea leaves.   
“The crip wasn’t even cute.” Oscar added, rolling his eyes.   
“Kinda looked like you.” Morris said to Crutchie, and Crutchie froze once more.  
“Weird.” Crutchie murmured, not looking at them.  
“No, Morris, it couldn’t have been Crip, ‘cause Crip’s right leg is bum, the other crip had a bum left leg.” Crutchie silently sighed a breath of relief. Thank god they were idiots.  
“Oh, you’re right.” Morris nodded. “Yeah, plus he looked real fancy. Crip could never look like that.” Oscar laughed and Crutchie wanted so badly to tell them they were wrong, to tell them that he was actually at the ball, to brag about how he spent time with the prince, and how the two of them both enjoyed it. But, Crutchie kept silent as they spoke, grabbing a towel to protect his hands as he carefully reached over the fire to take hold of the whistling metal kettle, pouring the steaming tea into a mug and handing it to Weisel. Weisel snatched it from Crutchie without a word, obviously still angry over his boys missing their chance with the prince.   
“It’s late… I’m going to go upstairs and turn in for the night.” Crutchie announced quietly, as if anyone actually cared. With those words, Crutchie slipped out of the kitchen and started the tedious climb up to his attic bedroom. Pushing open his door, he collapsed onto his bed, a smile spread over his face like butter. He stared at his ceiling, daydreaming and replaying the days’ events. Eventually he nodded off, his last thoughts of the palace and the ball before he gave in to his exhaustion.   
Only mere miles away, Jack paced in his father’s bedroom. The ball had ended and Jack was still in his official suit, but he didn’t have the heart to change out of it.  
“He’s the one dad, I’m telling you.” Jack said for the upteenth time. “We met in the woods a few days ago and he came to the ball and he recognized me and I recognized him, and we had such a great time, Dad. I showed him the garden and we were teasing each other and laughing and joking like old friends. Then he just… ran.” Jack’s voice went from excited and head over heels to sad almost immediately.   
“Well, son, that really is unfortunate but you must choose someone soon… I suggest Princess Avaline, the one you were dancing with before that boy showed up/  
“Dad, ‘m ninety-nine percent positive she broke every toe on my foot with her dancing.” Jack whined, flopping into the chair beside his father’s bed.  
“Her family is very powerful, may I remind you.” The King told his son, shaking his head. “With an alliance we could make lots of progress.”  
“Yeah but… I don’t feel the spark with her that I felt with Crutchie.” Jack argued.  
“The kid’s name is Crutchie? Jack, I don’t know, That’s not a very… elegant name.” Doubt overcame the king’s face.  
“Wait, Dad, no, wait. That isn’t his real name, just a nickname ‘cause of his crutch.” Jack fumbled over his words to explain.  
“Well… you need a significant other soon. I’m giving you ‘til the end of the week.” The king granted Jack more time, and Jack nodded gratefully.  
“Dad… he left his shoe on the staircase. Could I maybe look through the village to see if he’s there?” Jack asked, wringing his hand.  
“Do whatever you want, long as you find someone by Sunday.” The king waved his hand dismissively, exhausted by the ball. Jack grinned, nodding as he kissed his father’s forehead and left the room, running down the hall to his bedroom to plan the hunt for Crutchie. Before he climbed into his bed, he sent a maid with a letter asking the Captain to lead the expedition. Flicking his lights off, he ran to his bed and jumped on it, slipping under the covers quickly in case the nonexistent monsters got him- he may be seventeen and a prince, but some childhood traditions never left. Before he dozed off, he imagined what it would be like to find Crutchie the next day, a smile on his face.


	7. Looking for Crutchie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crutchie is found yay!!

The next day, Jack woke up bright and early to the birds chirping outside his window. He stood, his feet hitting the cold tile as he stretched, causing him to do an odd jumping dancing combination to the nearest carpet next to the window. From the prince’s window he could see the garden and the top of the tree in the middle of his secret garden. After he stared out the window for around fifteen minutes, Jack rang for a maid and ordered breakfast, flopping on his bed as he waited. When it arrived, he ate the toast and drank his coffee before the Captain entered his room. Jack sat up immediately, looking at the Captain expectantly.  
“You got my note last night?” Jack asked excitedly.  
“Yes, and I will gladly assist you.” The Captain nodded. “Will you be joining us?”  
“Um…” Jack considered it. “I dunno. People tend to act weird around me.” Jack said, not in the mood for the pointing and staring and gawking that came with going out in public.  
“Why don’t you go dressed as a guard?” the Captain suggested to the prince.  
“Like… undercover?” Jack asked, grinning. When the captain confirmed his idea with a nod, Jack immediately agreed.   
“Yes, that sounds like a very good plan.” Jack nodded, trying to sound official but his excitement slipped through. The captain smiled, bowing slightly before leaving the room. Jack fist pumped and jumped back onto the bed, laying there for a few more minutes before someone dropped off a guard's uniform. Jack slipped it on, looking at the mirror to make sure he had it all on right. When he confirmed that he did he started towards the foyer of the castle, where the Captain was with twenty four other guards. Jack pulled the hood over his head, mostly concealing his face as to remain anonymous. The captain spoke a few words and the guards nodded, marching outside to their waiting horses. Jack climbed onto his own horse, which was positioned right behind the Captain. The Captain motioned with his arm and everyone began walking, going from house to house.  
Crutchie woke up earlier than usual, his heart still skipping a beat whenever he thought about the previous night. He was in an unusually good mood all morning, even as he cleaned up after Lucifer in the living room and cleaned the foyer a record breaking eleven times. He hummed as he fed the chickens in the yard and collected their eggs, making breakfast for his step brothers and step father with the fresh eggs. In addition, he made toast and properly set out the table instead of making Morris or Oscar do it in exchange for their breakfast. Morris and Oscar came down the stairs, obviously grumpy. They were not morning people. Oscar grumpily sat in his seat, head in his hands. Morris sat beside him, stabbing his toast with a fork.  
“Morning…?” Crutchie said slowly, sitting down as Weisel entered the room.  
“No.” Morris grumbled, eating his eggs.   
“Oh. Okay. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” Crutchie asked as he took a bite of his toast.  
“Not in the mood, crip.” Wiesel snapped, reaching across the table to get some strawberries from the bowl of fruits kept in the middle. Crutchie nodded, his good mood fading quickly. After dinner everyone scattered, leaving Crutchie to clean up the plates and table. He quickly did so, planning on riding his mare for a bit anyway.   
“I’m going out riding!” He called on his way out the door. Walking down to the stables, he groomed Butterscotch as necessary and saddled her, using a stool to swing his bad leg over his side. Crutchie threw his crutch to the floor, applying slight pressure to Butterscotch’s side and she took off, starting down the familiar path through the forest. With butterflies in his stomach, he fondly remembered how he met Jack starting on this trail. Of course, Butterscotch had run into the forest and almost gotten lost, but it started on this trail nonetheless.  
Jack was tired. No, Jack was exhausted. They had gone through what seemed like a million houses, and still hadn’t found anyone to match the shoe. The prince was astounded at what people would do to convince the Captain that the shoe belonged to them when it quite obviously didn’t. Even a few girls claimed that the obviously male shoe belonged to them. With each claim the Captain would turn to the guards, more specifically Jack, and with a slight shake of his head Jack would say something along the lines of ‘no, this one’s not him’ or ‘nope, move along’. It was obvious to Jack that the guards around him were becoming restless, as they shifted around a lot in their saddles and grumbled as each house turned out to be a let-down. Needless to say, small smiles were shared when a house honestly shook their heads, saying that they had either opted not to go to the ball or were not the owner of the shoe. Soon, they had gotten half the town and there were only eight houses remained. At house number eight, a girl no older than six insisted she was the ‘missing princess’ only to be scolded by her mother for wasting the Captain’s time. At house seven, a man who obviously was too old to be Crutchie tried fitting his foot in, only getting frustrated when he couldn’t. At house six, Jack zoned out.  
Crutchie returned from his ride an hour or so later, somewhat disappointed that he didn’t run into Jack again. When he returned to the house, Morris was lounging on the couch while Morris attempted-and failed- at playing the piano.   
“Dad wants you in your room.” Morris called, his voice irritated. Crutchie gulped nervously and nodded, making his way up the stairs. When he pushed the door open, Crutchie froze when he processed the scene. Weisel sat on his bed, the glass shoe dangling from his finger tip. The loose floorboard lay discarded on the other side of the room, all of his personal belongings strewn across the room haphazardly. Crutchie choked back tears as he saw the framed photo of him and his parents face up on the ground, the glass badly cracked. It was obviously thrown with the intent to break, no doubt in Crutchie’s mind.  
“So, want to tell me where you were last night?” Weisel asked, glancing between the shoe and Crutchie’s shocked face.   
“I-well-um-” Crutchie stuttered, not sure what to say.  
“You know, it all clicks into place now.” Weisel told Crutchie. “You came home and some chores weren’t done. Weird, providing that you were home alone for at least three hours. Then, your hair was wet and we could assume you didn’t go out into the dark, rainy night all alone. You were oddly quiet, considering you usually don’t shut up. And finally, your overly peppy attitude this morning. My sons, although worthy of the crown, didn’t put two and two together. Thankfully, I did, so I took it upon myself to investigate.” He motioned to the destroyed bedroom. “I want the truth, crip.” Wiesel sat up straight, glaring at Crutchie. If looks could kill, Crutchie would be six feet under.   
“I- I went to the ball.” Crutchie admitted in a meek voice.  
“Louder.” Wiesel demanded, eyes not leaving Crutchie.   
“I went to the ball.” Crutchie answered, louder although his voice shook.   
“After I told you not to?” Wiesel raised an eyebrow.  
“After you told me not to.” Crutchie repeated.  
“Good.” Wiesel said, and after he was sure Crutchie was watching he smashed the glass shoe against the wall. “The prince is going around town trying to find the owner of the shoe. I’m doing him a favor.” He spat as he crossed the room, giving Crutchie a hard shove before closing the door. A small click told Crutchie he was locked in the room. Hot tears stung his eyes as he tried to clean the pieces of glass, going slow as to not accidentally cut himself. Soon all of the shards were swept into one pile under his bed, but the rest of his room was still atrocious. WIth a deep and heavy sigh, Crutchie began to pick up the personal belongings. He found the collar of his first dog under his wardrobe, already covered in dust. The love letter from his father to his mother was thankfully still intact, save for a small rip in the corner. However, the picture frame was smashed, the glass obviously not saveable. A tear dripped down his cheek, landing on the glass before crutchie carefully turned it over, starting to undo the back to take out the picture. The sight of the photo, particularly smiling, young Crutchie behind held by both his parents, obviously happy and loved, only broke Crutchie more. He pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as his small frame racked with sobs. His fingers released the photo, and it flittered down to the ground, landing on the wood, SOon the exhaustion from crying and the events of the past hour became to tiring for Crutchie, so he forced himself to stand and limp to his bed, curling up under his blanket and crying a few more tears before settling into an uncomfortable sleep.  
House five had six dogs that ran out to meet the guards, causing the guard behind Prince Jack to start sneezing with allergies. House four never answered, despite the obvious movement on the upper level of the house. However, most interesting, was house three. It was an estate on a large plot of land, and Jack could see a stable behind the house. The guards and the Captain continued up the driveway, the Captain dismounted and knocked on the front wooden doors. A man opened, obviously prepared for the Captain’s visit. Wiesel was wearing an elegant waistcoat with his best shoes, his thin grey hair combed back.  
“To what do we owe this honor?” He asked in a sickly sweet voice.   
“His Highness Prince Jack wishes that every male in the town try on this glass shoe,” The Captain said after clearing his throat, presenting the shoe to Weisel. “Did you or any residents of this household attend the prince’s ball?”  
“It just so happens I did, as did my two sons.” Wiesel smiled, opening the doors wider. “Do come in,” he invited the Captain, who stepped into the foyer with a look back at his guards. He already didn’t like this man.  
“Where are your sons?” The Captain asked, glancing around the foyer.  
“They’ll be here any second now.” Wiesel assured the Captain before turning to the stairs. “Oscar, Morris! Hurry up now,” he called, leaning against the railing. At his call Oscar and Morris appeared at the top of the stairs, ceasing their fighting momentarily to walk down towards the Captain and their father. Once they reached the bottom they looked at the Captain expectantly. Begrudgingly, he gave them to shoe. It was obvious to him that none of these boys were Crutchie, since Jack had described the mystery boy to the Captain that morning. He had sandy brown hair, while these two had varying shades of dark brown. He had green eyes with gold streaks, while these two had dark brown ones. But nonetheless, he was required to give everyone the chance to try the shoe on. Oscar went first, shoving his foot into the shoe. His foot was too big, and his pained expression gave it away even though he tried to act like it fit perfectly. Then it was Morris. His foot was too small, that fact obvious due to the fact that it was almost impossible for the shoe to stay on as he walked. The Captain reached for the shoe to take back when a loud crash was heard overhead. All the guards, including the prince, looked up. Unbeknownst to them, Crutchie was locked in his bedroom, trying to simultaneously clean up himself and the trashed room. He was somewhat successful, with the room almost recovered from Wiesel's damage. However, although the sobbing had ceased, stray tears still slipped down his cheeks as he walked. He was about to cross the room to look out the window when his crutchie caught on the loose floorboard, which he hadn’t closed all the way, sending him tumbling down. Thankfully, his shoulder took most of the impact, his arm shielding his head from the hard wooden floor. It didn’t hurt too much, only taking a few minutes for the pain to fade and eventually disappear. However, he did sit on the floor against the wall for a few minutes, the motivation to get up and do anything totally lost on him.  
“Are you sure there is nobody else living with you?” The Captain raised an eyebrow, eyeing the staircase.  
“Only the servant boy, but he hasn’t been at the ball, the boy can barely walk.” Wiesel assured. “Now, are you positive the shoe didn’t fit my boys?” He turned the attention back to his boys as the Captain turned to look at Jack, who nodded.   
“I would like to see this serving boy.” The Captain told Weisel. “Under the Prince’s orders I am required to see every resident.”   
“It will take him forever to make his way down the stairs,” Wiesel said, fumbling for any excuse to leave Crutchie alone.  
“I’ll go up to him, then.” The Captain said, motioning for a few guards, including Jack, to join him.  
“Really, that won’t be necessary.” Weisel insisted.   
“It is.” The Captain said, nodding his head. “Now, will you please escort us to where the serving boy is?” Although it was phrased as a question, they both knew it was a demand.  
“Very well,” Weisel said. “Oscar, why don’t you show them up?” Oscar nodded at his father's request and started up the stairs, slowly until the Captain urged him on. Oscar reached the landing of the second floor and continued to the door at the end of the hall, leading them up to the door that opened into Crutchie’s room. He reached for the handle, turning it, not knowing that his father locked it. As the doorknob jiggled, Crutchie looked up and sighed, standing to his feet and making his way over to the window seat, not wanting to be on the floor when Weisel walked in. Oscar laughed nervously as he grabbed the key from a little shelf next to the door, unlocking the door. Oscar stepped aside to let the Captain through, who also stepped to the side to allow Jack through. As Jack pulled the hood off, revealing himself, the Captain smirked at Oscar’s reaction. He immediately bowed, eyes wide as the prince passed into the room. Crutchie looked up tiredly, expecting another lecture from Wiesel, but was pleasantly surprised when he saw Jack.   
“Jack?” Crutchie asked, confused, as he stood to greet Jack.  
“Are you okay?” Jack asked, crossing the room to Jack and placing his hands on Crutchie’s shoulders.  
“Yeah, ‘course, why wouldn’t I be?” Crutchie answered, to which Jack pulled him into a hug. Crutchie immediately hugged him back, his arms around Jack’s shoulders. His crutch clattered to the floor but the two couldn’t find it in them to care. Oscar stared at the two in shock, frozen in his place even as the Captain pushed past him.  
“Your Highness, we must return to castle.” He said, interrupting Jack and Crutchie reunion. Jack pulled away, nodding, his arm still around Crutchie’s waist.   
“Ready to go?” He looked to Crutchie.  
“G-go? Where?” Crutchie looked up at Jack.   
“The castle. You don’t have to stay here anymore.” Jack told him, looking around his bare room.   
“Really?” Crutchie asked, eyes wide.  
“Yeah, of course. And, uh…” Jack dug his hand into his pocket, before lowering himself into a kneeling position. “Would you marry me?” He smiled at Crutchie, his smile a mixture of nervousness and hopefulness.  
“Of course!” Crutchie nodded with a smile, so Jack stood up, slipping the gold band on to Crutchie’s ring finger before gently cupping his face in his hand and kissing him sweetly. Crutchie smiled into the kiss before they were interrupted by the Captain clearing his throat.   
“Oh… right.” Jack mumbled, smiling towards Crutchie. “We’d better go.” After Crutchie retrieved the photo of his family. Jack took Crutchie’s hand, moving past a very surprised and confused Oscar and slowly making his way downstairs with Crutchie. Weisel gaped at the sight of Crutchie’s hand entwined with the prince’s.  
“Wha-when? How? Charlie.” Wiesel's went through a range of emotions. “Go back to your room.” On instinct, Crutchie stopped walking with Jack and began to pull away.  
“Hey, he doesn’t control you anymore.” Jack reminded Crutchie softly, not letting go of his hand. Crutchie nodded, moving closer to Jack. Jack continued towards the door, the Captain glaring at Wiesel as if daring him to do anything. They made it over the threshold and started towards Jack’s horse when Crutchie stopped, his mother’s words repeating in his head: Have courage and be kind. Be kind.  
“Wait, I have to tell them something.” Crutchie told Jack before releasing his hand and stepping back into the house until he was face-to-face with Weisel.   
“I forgive you.” Crutchie told him, not waiting for an answer before going back out to rejoin Jack.   
“Ready now?” Jack asked Crutchie, who in turn nodded. Jack sent a guard to go get Butterscotch, and once Crutchie had his mare, Jack helped him to mount her. Jack led the guards back to the palace, Crutchie riding happily beside him.


End file.
